


Tell Me How to Forget You

by cupofgenmaicha



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smoking, Undercover Cops, drabble (at least for now), mafia, mentions of drugs and prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 08:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupofgenmaicha/pseuds/cupofgenmaicha
Summary: Hyunwoo wants Changkyun to come home.





	Tell Me How to Forget You

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble is technically part of a larger AU, but this particular scene kept bothering me while I was working on my other stories. So, I decided to write it out and post it. Hope someone enjoys reading it (even if it is a bit angsty)! 
> 
> Also, I was between T and M for the rating, and decided on M to be safe.
> 
> ***Please do not repost my fics! Thank you!***

Water drips from Hyunwoo’s hair onto his dress shirt as he stands under the narrow overhang waiting to be buzzed in. It’s raining again, the torrential downpour driving the cicadas underground and Seoul is strangely quiet for a Friday night. He hears a soft click and steps through the double doors into the dimly-lit hallway, the shiny black tiles inlaid with round glowing lights.

His wet leather shoes squeak in the empty hallway, and his heart rate picks up, thrumming under his skin as he turns the corner and hears faint music seep from the second set of double doors, a tell-tale sign that the evening is already in full swing. These doors are guarded, but the two men know Hyunwoo as a regular now, only briefly patting him down to check for weapons before waving him through.

As soon as he walks down the stairs to the main floor of the club, he feels eyes on him, the intense scrutiny prickling his skin; he forces himself to keep his gaze from wandering around the crowded room as he squeezes onto a stool at the lacquered bar. Music throbs from the speakers, luring patrons to join the crush on the dance floor. On first glance, with muted lighting, several private black leather booths lining the walls and a popular DJ working the tables, it looks like any other club in Gangnam. Hyunwoo knows better. He pays double his monthly rent to know.

“Back again, Officer Son,” the bartender greets him with mischief glittering in his eyes, his silver hair glinting under a halo of light.

“I told you not to call me that, Hyungwon.” He tries to sound gruff, an authority figure, but he’s in mafia territory, unarmed, plain clothed and at their mercy. Every employee probably took one look at him and pinned him as a cop the first time he stumbled into the club with his shiny new membership card and a sheen of cold sweat dotting his forehead. With CCTV hidden around the club, the Kims are probably somewhere in the building watching him right now; he can almost hear their taunting laughter. Another police officer lost to the lure of illegal sex and drugs. The irony.

“Ah, yes. So you have.” Hyungwon’s lips twist into a smirk as he deftly fills a glass tumbler with his usual drink and leans over the bar, speaking lowly. “He’s been waiting for you.”

There’s no need to elaborate and the bartender is gone in an instant, already helping other customers. Hyunwoo hides the flicker of a smile behind his drink, swallowing a swig of the amber liquid, savoring the burn as it slices down his throat. He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag to give his fingers something to do as he waits.

“I thought I told you to stop smoking,” a man purrs behind him, the deep voice like a homecoming, wrapping Hyunwoo in a warm blanket, and he feels himself relax despite his vulnerable position. He turns to see Changkyun dressed in a soft black sweater and black skinny jeans, the casual clothing symbolic of his elevated position in the club. He no longer needs to show skin to make money, to earn respect or clients. Hyunwoo quickly scans Changkyun’s smooth skin for bruises, his clothes for rips or holes, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he finds nothing out of place. Changkyun plucks the cigarette from Hyunwoo’s lips and takes a drag. “It’s hazardous for your health, baby.”

Hyunwoo can’t help but grin at the pet-name and despite their intimate familiarity, he feels his ears burn. “How are you, Changkyun-ah?”

Changkyun smiles showing straight white teeth and reaches out to unbutton Hyunwoo’s top button. “I thought we were past the ‘getting to know each other’ stage.” He pouts. Playful. “Why don’t you buy me a drink?” 

He’s really asking for Hyunwoo to buy ten minutes of his time. Hyunwoo knows the rules; he lifts his hand under the watchful eye of the cameras and orders the most expensive drinks he can charge. His bank account is going to weep in the morning.

“What brings you in this time, officer?” Changkyun asks as he takes another drag, leaning his chin in his palm, feigning boredom like he would with any other customer, but his eyes are sharp.

It’s a habit now. Changkyun calls him by his title to draw a line between them; a firm reminder to Hyunwoo that Changkyun isn’t who he used to be. Hyunwoo has been visiting the club for over a year now, usually under the guise of some bullshit reason that neither of them believes, nervous that if he touches on the truth, that Changkyun will vanish like a wisp of smoke. One mistake and he’ll lose him forever.

They’re standing so close that Hyunwoo can see the acne scars on Changkyun’s cheeks, count the moles on his neck; if he closes his eyes he can still remember how soft his skin feels under his fingertips; he can still hear the little sighs he makes when he’s kissed just right. Changkyun is almost touching him, fingers a hair breadth away, too close to be following club rules but not close enough for Hyunwoo. Never close enough for him.

His eyes flick down to Changkyun’s empty ring finger, then they trace the Kim Family’s emblem emblazoned boldly across the back of his hand, the intricate design starting from his knuckles, then disappearing under his sweater sleeve. Three years ago, Changkyun was sent undercover to infiltrate the Kim Organization; he took off his ring and placed it in Hyunwoo’s palm and they held each other until Changkyun finally had to pull away, leaving in an unmarked car. There was always something different about him; something special and enigmatic that made him the best kind of police officer. He swiftly charmed his way up the ranks within the Organization, surviving on wit and ingenuity, but along the way he began to stray from his mission.

Maybe it’s the rain or the hollow apartment—or maybe it’s the ache puncturing his heart, but Hyunwoo is not feeling clever tonight. He doesn't want to play the game that has become their nightly ritual. “I missed you,” he breathes out, too honest, not bothering to keep the emotion from bleeding into his words.

Changkyun stares down at the tattoo on his hand, turning his body away from the cameras. His throat clicks as he swallows. “You’re not supposed to be here and yet you come back almost every night,” he muses, voice low enough to be swallowed by the music but Hyunwoo manages to hear him. “It isn’t for drugs. Or sex. But you’re risking your life anyway. I wonder why.”

Hyunwoo feels the time ticking away. Even with Changkyun barely sipping his drink, he knows that his ten minutes are almost up.

“Come back to us, Changkyun,” he murmurs, angling his body so it would look to anyone else like he’s trying his luck at picking up the club’s highest ranked escort for the evening.

He wants to say: _come back home_. He wants to say: _I still have your gold band, I take it everywhere I go_. 

Hyunwoo feels a hard lump lodge in his throat—all the tears that he has tried to swallow rising up, choking him; he just loves Changkyun too damn much. “I miss my partner,” he breathes out, words too soft for anyone but Changkyun to hear. But he knows by the clench in his jaw that he heard them—knows Changkyun heard what he really meant: _I'm lost without you_.

Something flickers over his face—it’s so brief that no one else would have noticed, but Hyunwoo sees it—sees the gentle humanity still there hidden amongst the anguish and cynicism. For a moment, their eyes meet and they are mirrors of the same hell neither can escape, both officers so lost in their missions they don’t know if an exit even exists anymore. 

“But you need me here.” His voice is so soft, almost pleading. “I’m almost _in_ , Hyunwoo-yah.”

_No!_ Hyunwoo wants to scream. He wants to shake him. _I need my best friend—my husband—to come home._

“You finished your mission already,” Hyunwoo implores, searching his eyes. His chest squeezes and he wonders distantly if someone can die from heartache. “We need you to come back now.”

Changkyun’s eyes flick around the room then down to the wedding band on Hyunwoo’s finger—the one he never removes—and his demeanor changes, hardens. “You should forget me,” he says as he stands, putting some distance between them, and stubs the cigarette out in one of the crystal bowls on the bar. Hyunwoo feels Changkyun rebuilding the wall, fortressing himself behind secrets that never used to exist between them. “Don’t ever come back.”

He can hear the slight tremor in Changkyun’s voice betraying his words. He feels his restraint crumble as he grazes a fingertip over Changkyun’s wrist, just one single point of contact breaking all the unspoken rules. He can feel Changkyun’s pulse jump under his finger. “How could I ever forget you, Changkyun-ah?”

Changkyun’s eyes close, eyelashes fluttering briefly against his cheek—and he glows even in the dark club, like a single dying star shining brightly before it blinks out. A fallen angel who doesn’t recognize that he is his own source of light. 

“That’s not my name anymore,” he protests weakly—but he doesn’t pull away from the touch.

Hyunwoo feels one last shred of hope flare in his chest and he clings to it as he entreats,“Please don’t leave yet, baby.” Hyunwoo can hear the heartache in his own voice. The love that still grows every day.

Changkyun shivers, his eyes snapping open and there’s something smoldering in them like the embers of memories. “You know one way to keep me.”

Hyunwoo never follows him up the stairs to the rooms behind the velvet curtain, can’t bring himself to exchange money for an hour of love, an hour where he can pretend that they’re back home in their tiny bed that just barely fits the two of them, where Changkyun is safe and he can kiss all his husband’s scars, the bruises hidden deep in his chest, the silent tears clinging to his lashes. Hyunwoo knows that loving him won’t make the pain disappear, but it could lessen it, make it more bearable.

Maybe it’s their apartment’s fridge stuffed full of another serving of food that will never be eaten. Maybe it’s the fact that the police chief warned him he would lose his position with the police investigative unit if he continues to visit the club—if he keeps trying to save an officer hopelessly lost to his mission. Or maybe he wants Changkyun to hold him, to touch him, to wear the simple gold wedding band again—even if it’s just for a heartbeat.

Maybe everyone needs an hour to pretend sometimes.

So, Hyunwoo takes Changkyun’s outstretched hand, laces their fingers together and follows him behind the curtain.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you listened to Changkyun's mixtape yet?? He's a fucking genius. I love him so much :(
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos, comments, etc really make my day :) Also, this is the third time I've written Hyunwoo as a police officer...I may have a problem.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/cupofgenmaicha) @cupofgenmaicha!


End file.
